


Steal Me Away (for just a second)

by Seers_and_Sinners



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, alternative ending for the hug, first olicity fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2124816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seers_and_Sinners/pseuds/Seers_and_Sinners
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's subtle, the way that her heart picks up just a little when he's around, but she can always feel it. He's in her lungs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steal Me Away (for just a second)

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted off of my fanfiction.net account (Impure Paradise)
> 
> Thank you for dropping by to read. I hope you like it!

**Steal Me Away (for just a second)**

**Summary - It's subtle, the way that her heart picks up just a little when he's around, but she can always feel it. He's in her lungs.**

**Disclaimer - I do not own the characters, or anything involved with the Arrow fandom. No claim intended.**

**(2x22 alternate ending for the hug)**

* * *

She thinks she's always known it, deep down. How she feels about him. She's always know that they way she looks at him isn't  _right_. She's always known that the way her skin burns when met with his isn't  _normal_. That's not friendship. That's not even close.

It's subtle, the way that her heart picks up just a little when he's around, like it's trying to escape from its confinement and find shelter elsewhere, but she can always feel it, just as surely as she feels her blood run slowly beneath her bones when he cradles her shoulder in his hand.

It's like he's in her lungs, when she speaks, when she breathes, and it's always a plea to him - because he is her day, he is her night, and she is faithful to him more than any other he's ever met, and not just because he's her boss - _partner_ \- or because he's the  _Arrow_. He's her life because she wants him to be.

She wants to be the same to him too.

She wants him to want her that deeply.

She wants a lot of things that she knows are too far out of her reach.

(so far she can't even imagine them anymore)

**xo**

Felicity watches him.

Her vision is disoriented and she can count two of him, but she watches, nonetheless. She watches every move he makes, even the most subtle shift from one foot to the other. There is a vulnerability about him, about the way he's breathing like he's desperate to take in as much air as he can, about the way he holds his head in both hands like it might explode. She wants to run over and wrap him up in her and whisper little white lies about how everything is going to be  _okay_  and he doesn't have to  _worry_ , but she stops herself. She fears she'll never let go if she gets the chance. So she just..watches him implode.

He's not returning her gaze at all. He's too busy staring out of the window of the clock tower, his intense eyes raking over the destruction of Starling City that unfolds before him like a taunt. A taunt of failure and something else. He's got a front row seat to the mess that Slade Wilson and his band of merry Mirakuru men has created. And all he can think about is the Undertaking. All he can hear is sirens and pleas and cries. All he can wonder is how he managed to let something like the Undertaking happen all over again. He wants to sink and cover his ears because this _shouldn't_ be happening again and it's  _all his fault_.

"Oliver," She's trying to say his name, but it's inaudible because he's so far away and her throat is so sore. The air around them is so thick and suffocating that she has to press three fingers to her lips to stop herself from choking on it. She wants more than anything to leave the clock tower and to find somewhere where it is safe to breathe, but right now, that's just not possible. Not unless she departs from Starling City, and that's something she'd never do when Oliver needs her there.

Her head is sticky with blood. It stains the roots of her dyed blonde hair and it drips between her splayed fingers. It's a reminder of the crash - a wet, warm reminder - but she refuses to acknowledge how much she wants to just let go, to pass out and plummet towards the dust coated floor, because even though he hasn't said it with his words, Oliver needs her there. He needs her to be awake and to fight alongside him, even if she is only using her brain to do so. He's too stubborn and blind to admit it to her, to Diggle, to Sara, to even himself, but he needs her to be around.

He needs her light in the darkest of days.

"I didn't know, Felicity," Oliver begins to speak to her, though he doesn't dare turn around. He doesn't dare look at her. Instead, he watches as the city -  _his_  city - falls victim to the flames that are spreading like a disease from building to building. Won't be long until the whole town is consumed. "Five years ago, I was a completely different person, and I had..no idea that something like this was even.."

He takes a pause, as if his brain is searching for the most suitable locution. And behind him, Felicity stares at the back of his head. She hangs on his every word. Craves them like air in her lungs.

".. _possible_." His finishes and his head shakes from side to side. She can feel his anxiety swimming around her and it makes her anxious too - because, if Oliver Queen, if the vigilante, if the  _Arrow_ is anxious, everyone should be. Everybody should be running for their goddamn lives. "I couldn't have imagined it. When you and Diggle brought me back to Starling City, I made a vow to myself that I would never let anything like the Undertaking happen again."

Red and blue lights flash all around them. Warnings emitting from the police cars that encircle the tower. Felicity might've laughed at the fact that the police thought they stood a chance against what was really going on out there, if the situation hadn't been quite so dire. Something about working with the Arrow made her feel superior to the officers. She knew the real dangers that threatened towns - dangers like poisons that turned men invincible and leagues of assassins and vengeance - and the boys in blue had no idea what she had to face every day of her seemingly work-a-day life. She'd be jealous if there was no clinch in the deal. She'd be jealous if there were no Oliver.

"What's happening now is not your fault." She replies and her eyes close. The world is dizzy around her, so dizzy she's sure she might faint and awake to destruction, but she holds on by listening to Oliver's voice. She's already blocked out the sounds of sirens and screams. His voice is all that she kept.

"Yes, it is." He's turning around to face her when Felicity opens her eyes. She stares at his sculptured, familiar face, and she wishes that she hadn't looked. He looks like he might  _break_. "I have failed this city." At his words, she can feel her lips transform into something that isn't quite a frown, but nowhere near a smile. She isn't even sure how to respond to something like that, or if there would be any use. "Yao Fei," His steady footsteps drag Felicity's undivided attention back to his purposely impassive face. "Shado, Tommy, my father, my mother..All that I have ever wanted to do is  _honor_  those people."

"You honor the dead by fighting," Felicity argues without waiting for a single beat to pass them. She pulls her fingers away from the gash that cuts into her forehead, her fingertips painted red with the blood that seeped from the damage and spilled onto her pale skin. "And you are  _not done_  fighting." Her voice raises, and it breaks and wavers and it might've cracked a little, but she doesn't care. The only thing that she cares about is standing a couple of steps away from her.

"Malcolm Merlyn," She continues as she moves her feet forward. The blood loss makes her light-headed but she forces herself to walk towards him, forces her voice to fill the void space that sits between their bodies. "The Count, the Clock King, the Triad.  _Everyone_  who has tried to hurt this city, you  _stopped_  them." She is standing before him now, so close that she can feel his harsh breath spill against her cheek, so close that she can smell his natural scent of sandalwood and forests. She looks up at him with eyes so determined that she can see his lips pull into a frown. "And you will  _stop_  Slade."

There is a moment of nothing but fragile silence as Oliver stares at her. His forehead creases as though he is trying to fully process the devotion and the confidence that spewed from her lips - words like a  _promise_  - a promise that  _he can do this_  - and he wishes that he had that confidence in himself, because all he feels is a sense of hopelessness, like for once  _he_  is the one who needs to be  _saved_.

"I don't know how." His voice travels calmly, but she picks up on the lilt that carries it.

He's not calm at all.

He's  _worried_.

"Neither do I, but I do know two things," Felicity whispers and takes another step into the space that divides them. Her feet glide underneath her, like he's a magnet and she's addicted, but she can feel every step much too painfully. She's amazed that she's still standing when her head is pounding like a warning signal all throughout her body. She hangs on, for him. "You are not alone," She watches as he seems to flinch, as he shifts on his feet and looks away from her. And she waits, waits until his eyes return to hers until she continues. "And I  _believe_  in you."

"Felicity-" His voice is soft and it sounds forced to her eyes, but it doesn't halt her from eradicating what little distance is left between their bodies.

Her hands lift to wrap around his shoulders, and from this he thinks that she will hug him tight.

He is wrong.

From the second that Felicity's lips pressed a kiss into his, Oliver's breath stood still, imprisoned inside of his throat. He isn't sure what to do. He knows what he  _wants_  to do. Thinks he might know what  _she_  wants to do. But in the end, he does nothing. He's still.

"Oliver," Her plea is almost silent against his skin, but he can hear it, he can feel it when her hands crawl to his face and pulls it closer towards hers. Her fingertips shake against his stubble. She hesitates. He hates that she hesitates. "I'm sorry," Her face is retracting from his, slowly, giving him a million chances to stop her and draw her back in. "I shouldn't have tried to-"

The words are trapped between their lips as Oliver anchors their skin back together, as though they had never parted, and Felicity's eyes snap shut at the feeling of his kiss on hers. It's so soft, so gentle, that she wants to sink and drown in the sensations that are running deep throughout her body, but she can't fall, because he's holding her up, up from the ground that feels like it's spinning underneath her.

She tries to settle into his embrace - tries to enjoy the fact that she's getting something that she has wanted for  _so_  long now - but her heart is pounding in her throat and spilling into her ears and her stomach feels hollow and empty like she hasn't eaten for weeks. Kissing Oliver was supposed to take their pain away but all it was doing was adding to it. She is suddenly aware of the gash on her forehead, but it's not the bloody red damage that's making her feel like she might faint. It's him. It's the warmth that he's exuding onto her. It's the way that his lips move in unison with hers. It's the way that his arms feel around her back. It's him.

" _Oliver_ -" She speaks into the kiss, but she pauses before she can protest further, because she can feel him shaking his head, as if to halt her attempts to stop.

Her blood-caked fingernails dig into his shoulders.

(why won't he  _let go_?)

"Can we just.." Oliver's voice is guttural. It resonates from somewhere deep inside of his throat - like an animal in the wild, chasing shadows through the woods. Looking for  _something_. "..for just..a second.."

It's not really a request. It's barely a question, but Felicity doesn't need a further explanation to understand what he's saying. He isn't asking to continue the kiss because he needs a distraction from what is going on outside of the tower, like she had been  _trying_  to give him. He's asking to continue because he needs this. He needs someone.

(and she needs to be that  _someone_ )

Her arms snake around his neck and they draw him into her body. He's smiling a whisper of a smile against her lips and she's on fire. She tries not to think - she wonders how she can manage to think at all while he's kissing her like _this_ , like she's his world and every kiss he's ever shared has just been practice for this - but she can't help it. She can't help but think about how something she's only ever dreamed about has become reality and she thinks about how she never wants to let go of this.

She'd stay like this forever if she could. There's sirens serenading them outside, and there's blood trickling from their battle wounds, and the people who scream are screaming for their masked heros, but she wants to be  _selfish_. She wants to take all she can get from this moment. She wants to kiss him until they are both out of breath and their lungs are begging for air and the noises  _stop_.

But she's not selfish. He's turned her into a hero and she knows that she has to do the right thing, because there are people who need the Arrow more than she ever could right now.

She pulls away.

She kisses goodbye to the euphoria that pours out of her system.

(his worries are dissipating more and more each second, like she wanted, _just_  like she wanted)

(but his heart is not mended)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read.


End file.
